The Frustration

No stars show in the night sky. No glittering light flows through the treetops and branches to see by. The clouds filled the dark skies as if to hide its beauty from the world making my path by the river unnerving with the sounds of nature amplified by the absence of sight.

I follow the path only from the bend in the pavement and I can smell the water of the Willamette River, clean and crisp, as it rushes by me. I can hear the creatures of the night and of the woods talking to each other, I can smell the soft earth from recent rainfall, and I can even taste the newness of the air on my tongue.

My sensitive body feels the water in the cold air, and my mind strays from my current occupation to think of other things that it shouldn't. A song plays in my head and my steps change so that my hips move to the rhythm and my heart seems to keep the beat.

Startled from my thoughts when a low branch skims over my short brown hair, I orient myself to the bends in the trail and the few lights from across the river. My spot is just up ahead. Thanking the branch for waking me up so I wouldn't miss it, I move forward through the low ivy and Oregon Blackberry bushes.

The log is still cold from dampness and I can see the water level of the river. Its higher then I expected, only a foot from the edge of my outcropping. The sounds of the overpass near by seem to calm me and I'm once again in awe of the seamless melding of human and nature around me. If only the rest of the world could be as blended as this my mind wonders before it becomes lost once again in thoughts it shouldn't.

Thoughts of naked men, and of a certain panting female, her moans of pleasure as I lick along her slit and nip at her clit, echo through my mind and I sigh deeply. The taste of her juices makes me squeeze every muscle I have tight as I lay back along the log, the chill of the bark sending a shiver along my nerves. I close my eyes, my hands clasped on my stomach and I listen. The night comes with so many sounds that I wonder why humans have become so afraid of it that we fill the night with enough light to block out nature's beauty.

My memories of this spot flow through my mind, my body temperature rising to a slight heat; memories of self-pleasure, mutual pleasure, and the taste and feel of a hard cock sliding through my lips and along my tongue. I tell myself that I cant stay long and I sit up wondering if there were easier ways to find my center; ways that didn't include torturing myself with fantasies that will never happen; or unlikely to happen again.

Standing, stretching, feeling what seems like every bone in my spine and every muscle in my back relax, I sigh a mixed sound that holds tones of completion and frustration. Returning to the paved trail, I follow along the night, holding its hand as I make way to the entrance, followed by the park, the street home and the front door with the porch light guiding my way.

The sound of my radio in my room greets me as I leave the light off to cross the floor to my bed. Stripping, leaving the clothing in a pile on the floor and sliding unclothed between the sheets my mind and body unite to frustrate imagining the touch a hand here on my breast, fingers softly teasing my hip and there on my inner thigh.

Dreaming of nothing and everything, no sense of release, no need. I live day by day in constant physical torment, my imagination to strong for my own good.

Waking and moving about my day, I pick up the clothes I'd left on the floor, straighten the bed, clean the dishes in the kitchen and swap the laundry. Moving on to the bathroom to shower before getting dressed, I find myself tempted to run a bath and soak for a while. Nixing the idea, I run the water, testing its warmth on my fingertips.

Remove my clothes; ignoring my reflection in the mirror, I don't want to see my naked body. I don't want to see the need, the burn as if it showed as an external mark. Stepping into the tub and closing the curtain behind me I step into the spray a bit at a time. Allowing my skin to adjust to heat that I picked.

Just my legs. The hot water falls down my legs and it burns it runs down. I move forward and the water splashes over my thighs so close to the juncture of my legs I can feel droplets hit the short dark brown hair there. Again moving closer, feeling the water hit my stomach and slide down my body over sensitive skin and throbbing flesh.

Move closer, the hot water hits me over my triple D breasts and as the water flows down it creates rivers between and over, collecting to form streams off the tips of my pink nipples. Finally reaching my neck, face, and turning so it hits my back, the sudden heat making me gasp and gently cry out in pleasure.

Tipping my head back I let the water pour over me, down my back, over my face, sliding down and over my body, I can feel the rise of my body's torment. I love the shower, the feel of the water on skin turns me on and in the right conditions drives me crazy.

I scrub my short hair, rubbing my scalp with my fingers. Shivers of pleasure rush through my blood as my hands slide down my body and I sigh when my palms skim my breasts and over my hips.

I shake my head to clear it, sighing I rinse and turn off the water. Stepping out and drying off, the towel in my hands scrapes my skin. It seems I can feel every thread over every cell of my body.

I dress and sit on my bed. Listening to the dj's on the radio talk about the NCAA's March Madness. Music finally comes on. First my foot gently keeps the beat, and then my fingertips tap it out on my thigh, soon I'm in the middle of my bedroom dancing to the song on the radio.

I'm alone, no ones watching, so I dance as if it were for someone. Someone sitting on the love seat behind me or laying on the bed under the window. I sway and dip, moving hands over head and breasts, down hips and thighs. No part is left untouched; the feel of my fingertips running over the crotch of my jeans sends a shiver through my blood.

Catching a glimpse of the clock, I sigh and turn off the radio. I grab my bus pass and turn off my light. Locking the door on the way out to the bus stop to go downtown. Think of nothing, and hopefully I wont go crazy from need. Am I a slut to think about fucking so damn much? Is it wrong to be wanted, to be touched, to be loved if not by the heart than at lest by the body? If not with a permanent partner than a partner of one night? To feel release poor through my limbs, shaking my legs, and stopping my mind for that single blissful moment when nothing matters except my pleasure and that of my partner?